Fire and Ice
by Penelope Jadewing
Summary: No one knows Thorin exists. There was a boy, once - Jackson Paper Overland - who saw him. Played with him. They had adventures. Fighting pirates. But he stopped believing in imaginary friends long ago. And then... Jackson drowned. And Puff the Magic Dragon was left alone once more. For hundreds of years, until he met the newest Guardian, Jack Frost. Multi-verse fic. OC. No slash.
1. Prologue

**A/N: So, this story stars a character of my own creation - Puff the Magic Dragon. As a human, he was a Viking in the Hooligan clan, and he died protecting their young chief from pirates. Yes, this is a mild HTTYD reference. But there will be no other implements of the HTTYD plot or characters, as they are not relevant. I hope you'll give my OC a chance, and I hope you like the tale I have to tell. Reviews are love!**

**~Penelope**

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**Prologue**

The last thing he remembered was leaping onto the pirate ship, sword brandished and ready to recover the chief from the sea dogs' clutches.

_They had dared to attack the Viking craft in the depths of night, and now they would pay the price. Every blasted one of them! Pirate after pirate he slew, only a boy of seventeen, inching closer to the king while all the other Vikings were deadlocked in combat._

_Then, just as he caught sight of his chief's face – twisted in determination as he himself fought against the pirate scum. Green eyes set in a freckled face slowly turned to catch sight of the boy making his way toward him. A narrow jaw clenched, and the chief's mouth opened to scream his name. The pirate fighting the chief raised his sword._

_He didn't even think about it. He threw himself into the chief, shoving the young Hooligan aside._

_Then pain. Everywhere. He felt the harsh northern winds cooling a suddenly open place on his back and his chest, where the hilt of a sword protruded. The severed frays of tunic around the pommel stained with blood. His blood._

_He stared with blank, haunted eyes as the chief slew the pirate that held the offending sword in his grasp. Without the villain's grip to hold him up, he sunk to his knees, heart impaled by a now master-less sword. Even as the chief scrambled to him, his eyes rolled back and closed as darkness took him._

He woke up on the same ship. Only it was vacant, sailing on a sea flat and flawless as a mirror. The bodies of fallen Vikings and pirates alike were gone, and he was alone. He lifted a hand to cradle his head as he staggered to his feet.

"What… I don't…" He stared at his hand. Talons, curved and dangerous-looking, tapered at the ends of his fingers. His skin, from his palms to his wrists and even his neck as he felt it, looked thicker, drier, scaly.

It was then that he noticed extra weight on his back and… whoa, okay, that was weird. Extra weight in an odd place. He tried glancing over his shoulder, and found a great fibery wing obstructing his view.

"WHA!" He attempted to stumble away, but the wing followed him. It was attached to him, on the back of his shoulder blades. The wing was _his_. In his fumbling, he stepped on something round and fleshy and scaly, felt pain, and toppled over onto the hard wooden deck in a pile of limbs.

A… a tail. He had a tail. A long, slithering tail with a flat, heavy spade-shaped fin at the end. And his feet, his feet had only three, long, scaled toes! And each had a rear toe that stuck out from his heels, like an eagle's foot.

What sort of creature was he? He certainly wasn't the Viking boy that had died protecting the chief.

With a gasp, he clutched at his chest, feeling for a wound, or even a hole in his tattered tunic where the sword had pierced him. There was nothing; the woolen fabric had knit together finely, as if nothing had gone wrong.

He wasn't dead. Was he?

He looked up, for the first time taking in his surroundings. The ship looked old, worn and battered, but in surprisingly good condition for the battle that had just taken place on it. And the sea… he had never seen the sea so calm. But what drew his attention was the moon.

It was massive in the sky, right along the horizon, reflecting off the glassy waters and creating the illusion of endless sky. As if he were sailing on the stars, and two moons stood like sentinels to his left.

Starbursts lit up the surface of the moon with bright blue lettering. One letter at a time, they spelled out a word.

_Find_.

He frowned, stepping closer to the ship's wall to study the celestial orb.

_Your._

_Center._

Center? What on earth did that mean?

Wait, why was the moon spelling out words for him?

"What in th' name of…" At least his voice, his brogue sounded familiar. All this strangeness was unsettling.

Still. Was he just going to sit here for hours? He had wings now, for crying out loud. Even if it was just a silly dream (though it didn't feel like one), he had wings. He had a world to explore. Sitting here would get him nowhere. Adventure waits for no man.


	2. Chapter 1

Nine hundred years was far too long.

Thorin had watched the great chief grow old, while he himself remained the same. It hadn't been long after he woke that he discovered the existence he had woken into. No one saw him. People walked right through him. He was the ghost of the island. And then, the chief died, the last of those Thorin knew. He had had no more reason to stay.

America was decent, though. A land of opportunity, they called it. Opportunity for what, though? For him to wander more villages, find more people who couldn't see him, become more adept at talking to himself?

He sighed, and huddled further against the cave wall, listening to the icy waves crash over the snow-covered sand. A chilly wind whipped at the dry sea grass, but did not enter his shelter. But alas, stone walls did little for warmth, and though hot gases brewed in his draconic belly, his limbs were losing their feeling. He pulled his wings around him in a sort of cocoon.

He hated winter.

But more so, he hated being alone in the winter. Winter was a time when he couldn't stand to go outside his little hermit home for fear of freezing to death. Not that that made sense; he'd already died once. Was it possible to die again?

It didn't matter. The cold hated him back with a ferocity that would match his dragon's fire. He shivered, drawing closer into himself.

He couldn't get out. And he couldn't hibernate. So he simply settled in for a long winter, and aching hunger. For a dragon needs to feed, but if he cannot leave his lair, he cannot hunt. And so, in the cold months, he starves.

A small voice rode the back of the wind. Thorin's dark brown furrowed, and he lifted his head the slightest.

What child would be out here in such weather?

"Drive them back! Show no mercy!" The voice was distinctly a boy's, that was for sure. He thought he heard the clack of something wooden. "Oh, no! They have catapults! Quick, fire the cannons! Take them down!"

Following that was numerous mimicked explosions. A young brunette boy came into view from, swinging a branch like a sword. "Take that, and that, lobster backs! You and your brutish allies will…"

Thorin gasped as it appeared the boy stared straight at him. He stiffened, remaining huddled against the stone wall. Though, if he really did see him, there was no hiding from him.

"Whoa… look, a cave!" said the boy, scampering closer, eyes alight. Thorin sighed; false alarm. "Maybe it's a pirate cave! Or maybe it's a buried treasure!"

Who was the boy talking to? Thorin saw no others. The lad just seemed to be entertaining himself.

"I wonder if there's anything guarding it…" The boy stood a mere foot away, now, staring into the cave's depths. "Like a lion, or a dragon."

Ironic. Thorin glared at the child, wrapping his arms around his knees and closing in on himself again.

"Please be careful, Mr. Paper. Of course I'll be careful!" The boy changed voice between himself, trying to sound like two separate characters. "Whatever the guard is, it's no match for me!"

Thorin fought a smirk. The lad had pluck, he'd give him that. "Ya better hope no one hears you talkin' t' yerself like that."

Of course, the kid didn't hear him, and proceeded to tiptoe into the cave, branch held at the ready. Thorin tried not to laugh. If he was acting the dragon, the little adventurer would be dead by now.

"Come out, come out, dragon," said the boy, shuffling further into the cave. "I know you're in there."

If only, if only.

Still. What else was going to come along to cure Thorin's winter boredom? He rolled onto his heels, and stood, following the tyke inside. "You'd be so dead right now if I were the sort o' dragon ye're lookin' for."

"The treasure room should be just down here. How do you know? I just know these things."

"Ha!" Thorin couldn't keep the grin down anymore. "Yeah right."

Brown eyes wide and filled with wonder, the lad went on, leather-covered feet pattering on the rocky surface.

Thorin's talons scuffed the floor. The boy whirled around, lashing with his stick. The dragon boy got a whap in the arm for his trouble. And while he rubbed the now sore spot, the boy suddenly went from filled with wonder to filled with fear.

With a hissing sound, black sand began to slither across the floor. Thorin frowned, hand still massaging where the stick had hit.

"H-Hello?" the lad stuttered, glancing around. "Is… is someone there?"

"I'd answer that question if I could." But Thorin stared, distracted, at the black sand that intruded his home. What on earth was it? By now, out of the ordinary things didn't surprise him, but this was enough to make him suspicious. He'd seen the Sandman's dream sand, and this certainly wasn't it.

He'd heard of… but that couldn't be… The Boogeyman hadn't been heard from in ages.

"Who's there?" the boy cried, voice pitching higher. His branch trembled. The black sand swirled toward the boy's feet.

"Nothin' doin'." With that, Thorin jumped forward and blasted the slithering sand with fire. The heat poured from his mouth, leaving him unharmed, but melting the sand on impact and leaving a puddle of clear liquid behind. The boy screamed.

Thorin glided a smooth circle about the child on all fours, blowing back the sand with wind from his wings or blasting it with his fire. Soon, as Thorin stood to face it shoulders squared, it gathered itself into the faceless shape of a man, growled at him, and vanished.

He had his back to the boy, but he watched to be sure whatever it was had gone. Nothing reappeared, and Thorin's shoulders relaxed, his wings sagging.

"You're…"

Oh, right. The boy. Thorin glanced over his shoulder.

Big brown eyes stared up at him in what Thorin couldn't tell was fear or awe.

Biting his lip with his sharp teeth, Thorin turned around and stepped away, bringing his wings in closer against himself, like a shield. He gulped. It felt different than he imagined, to be seen. He thought it would be great, adventurous, magnificent. Instead, he felt exposed. Scared.

"You're…" Again, the boy trailed off, leaving the sentence open-ended and intimidating.

Thorin put on a brave face, and flicked his forked tongue. "Well? Spit it out; what am I?"

"…Where'd you come from?"

He growled. "I donnae think that's what ye were going t' say."

The lad blinked up at him. "So?"

"So…" Thorin sighed, letting his wings fall back behind him. "I'm from… an island. Far away from here."

"You're a dragon."

Finally, he got to it. Thorin nodded curtly. "I am."

"But you look kinda like a person, too."

So the kid was no rocket scientist. Thorin rolled his eyes, folding his arms just for the sake of moving. He didn't like holding still. "Aye."

"Why couldn't I see you before?" The boy cocked his head.

"People… cannae usually see me."

The kid wrinkled his nose. "What?"

Right. Brogue. "Um… Most people never see me."

For a moment, the kid didn't react. Then he blinked. "Am I crazy?"

Thorin laughed at that. "No, I donnae think so."

"Why can I see you?"

"Ya must have seen my fire first, and then ya believed somethin' was there. Which was me."

Slowly, the boy sunk down to sit cross-legged on the cave floor, looking ponderous in the innocent way children often could. "…Mother says I ask lots of questions. But it's only because I have a lot of questions."

Thorin raised an eyebrow. "You have questions for me?"

"Lots of 'em."

A small smile quirked Thorin's lips, and he stalked forward to sit in front of the boy, tail flicking behind him and wings balancing him on either side. "Ask away. I donnae mind."

The boy's eyes lit up and he opened his mouth to do as he was told. Thorin hurried to hold up a hand. "Wait! First, I think I should know yer name."

"My name is Jackson Paper Overland. Paper is a funny middle name, isn't it?"

"No funnier than mine." Vikings had a nasty penchant for strange, vile names.

"Can I call you Puff?"

Thorin wrinkled his nose at the name. "What? Why?"

"Because. A blast of fire, a puff of smoke, and there you were! Puff!"

Despite not caring for the nickname, Thorin couldn't bite back a laugh, and in his fit of chortling, he nodded his head. "Aye, whatever – you call me whatever ya like."

"Okay, Puff! So, first off, I wanna know why you talk so funny…"

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**A/N: And so a friendship is born. Let me know what you think of Thorin/Puff and wee!Jack! :D**


	3. Chapter 2

North had run into some frightening things. He'd been a guardian for centuries. He faced Pitch Black the Nightmare King, for heaven's sake, with the help of his friends and allies. But in all his time on the planet, he'd never run into anything quite as frightening as a furious Tooth Fairy.

"North!" The hummingbird woman whipped through the doors of his private study, and slammed them behind her.

North gulped and tried to hide it, instead leaning back from his toy table and folding his burly, tattooed arms. "What is problem, Tooth? I am busy."

"Too busy for the new immortal?"

Oh, that. North sighed heavily, throwing his hands into the air. "I am telling you, persistent fairy, I have looked everywhere for him! And I cannot find him!"

She clenched her tiny fists at her sides. "Then look harder! North, it's not fair! Who knows what he's going through!"

"It is not as if I can do anything if I am not knowing where he is." The toymaker leaned on his table. The corner of an old map peeked out from under his piling projects, and he furrowed his brow. He'd scoured everywhere for that elusive new immortal, but every time he thought he was getting close, the darned kid moved! And disappeared. Even now, North had absolutely no idea where the newbie was hiding.

"Couldn't you send out the elves?"

"HA! No way, is not happening! Have you met my elves?"

Still looking perturbed, Tooth grumbled. "You should do something. You're St. Nicholas! You're a leader to us all, under Manny, and honestly, Manny's not much of a talker. Whoever that kid is, they're going to need a little bit of help."

North felt a lightbulb turn on in his head. "Why do you not find him, Toothiana?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?"

"You could be finding this new immortal just as well as I could."

She looked far from impressed. "Unlike that of some people, my job is not seasonal. I can't just stop collecting teeth to go off into the blue."

"Fine, fine, it was bad idea." North held up his big hands in a placating gesture. "I will see what I can do."

The fire returned to her eyes. "Soon, North. Not after Christmas. The poor thing is probably so clueless and lost and alone…"

"I will be taking care of it, Tooth! You may go now."

She sent him one more glare, and then whisked out of the room, slamming the door again behind her. North jumped at the loud bang, and then let his forehead thud against his table. "Oi…"

Another lightbulb, and he stood straight again. "I know! I think I will be paying visit to Bunny…"

~RotG~

"You've met St. Nicholas!?" shrieked ten-year-old Jackson, grin splitting his face wide.

Puff – two years, and he still had a ways to go to get used to the name – nodded. "Briefly, a long, long time ago…"

"How long ago?"

"Say, eight hundred and ninety eight years."

"HOLY COW!"

"There's nothing holy about cows, kid."

Jackson laughed, holding his ankles as he sat cross-legged once more on the cave floor. "You know what I mean."

Watching the boy giggle to himself, Puff found the sound quite infectious, and tried to keep back a smile of his own. And failed.

"So, what happened?" Jackson leaned forward, grinning up at his friend. "How did you meet him?"

"He nearly plowed me over with his sleigh in the middle o' the night over Greenland."

"Whoops."

"No kidding. He paused long enough to apologize, and I ended up askin' him what he was doing. Seein' as he was in a hurry, he made the explanation short – somethin' about delivering gifts – and told me he would come back to speak with me later."

Jackson looked riveted. "Did he?"

Puff made a face, and shook his head. "Nah. An' the way he said it, I dinnae really expect him to. Still. Woulda been nice to speak with someone who could actually talk back and knew I was there. Someone who seemed t' know what they're doin'."

"Why didn't you find him?"

That made him pause, and Puff frowned. Hm, why hadn't he? He supposed it hadn't really occurred to him, and he had let the brief encounter fade to the back of his mind, assuming he would never run into the big, strange man again. It had been an offhand comment by said man – "If I do not deliver presents, children no believe, I disappear, big mess!" – that Puff had used to figure out why people walked right through him. Belief. It seemed to be what powered this strange world he was now part of. Hence why he gleaned that Jackson had believed when he saw his fire, and then was able to see him.

"Well?"

Puff shrugged. "I donnae ken – I never thought to, I suppose."

"You really do talk funny, you know."

"I'm Norse. I blame my heritage."

Jackson laughed, and then quieted as a warm breeze blew into the cave from the warm spring air outside. Slowly, his honey-brown eyes were drawn to gaze out over the sandy beach. Far out on the water, a ship sailed on the choppy waters, a black flag raised high.

"I wonder if that's a pirate ship."

Pirates. Puff shuddered.

"Hey! I've got an idea!" Jackson scrambled to his feet, turning to Puff with expectant eyes. "We could fly over there!"

Puff started, and clenched his jagged teeth. "Ah – no."

"Why not!?" The boy whined, shoulders sagging. "Please?"

"No."

"You're afraid. You're afraid that it is pirates!"

"I am not!"

"Chicken! Yellowbelly! Bawk, bawk!"

Puff felt his lip curl, and he glared at the kid. "Shut yer gob, you little imp. I'm nae afraid of any stupid pirates!"

"Yeah, well prove it!"

That did it. Impudent little… He rose to his taloned feet, squaring his shoulders. "You asked for it, kid."

It happened fast. Puff flapped his great wings and propelled himself forward, at the same time snatching up the boy and practically throwing him onto his back. Warning him to hold on tight, he burst out of the cave's mouth and took to the skies, the spring winds carrying him high. Jackson yelled with excitement, clinging the dragon's neck as they flew even higher.

"Relax a little – ya'll choke me."

"Sorry!" the boy replied over the wind, and peered down over Puff's shoulder at the ocean below. "We're… really high."

"Who's afraid now?"

"Oh, be quiet."

Soon, they were soaring over the ship in question. While Jackson watched with awe, Puff's eyes narrowed. The kid had called it all right. On the black banner was brandished a clear, contrasting white skull and crossbones.

"Let's go back." The memory of the blade piercing his chest made a strange, choking feeling rise behind his lungs. "It's nae safe."

"Oh, come on!" Jackson huffed. "You're a dragon, for crying out loud!"

"Dragons can die, too."

"You really are scared of pirates."

"I'm…" Yes, so he was. Maybe he had a right to after they killed him.

"Dragons aren't scared of anything. In all the stories, it's the knights that are scared of the dragons, not the other way around!"

Puff glanced at the child, saw the same innocent expression on his face that always seemed to be there.

"Let's scare them away, Puff," said Jackson with a grin. "It'll be fun. You want to have fun, don't you?"

Fight pirates with a child on his back? How safe was that? Wait, his back… His wings. Dragon scales, impenetrable. A smile crept over his face, and instantly, Jackson brightened.

"YES!"

Puff dove for the ship, fangs bared and gases stirring in his gut, ready to ignite.

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**A/N: A thank you shoutout to tula453 and nature9042 for following! I hope you continue to enjoy the updates. Any feedback on Puff and his character is fully welcome, as well as if the canon characters are OOC or not. This is actually my first RotG fanfic, though it's been brewing for a long time now.**


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